


Under the Mistletoe - 2020

by Bittodeath



Series: Mistletoe Game [2]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, Mistletoe, Multi, kissing under the mistletoe, mistletoe game
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-20
Updated: 2021-02-22
Packaged: 2021-03-10 21:01:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28203522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bittodeath/pseuds/Bittodeath
Summary: A Tumblr-based game: from December 1st to mid-January, you can send a character to my askbox and i'll make them kiss under the mistletoe with another character sent by another user.Link to participate in the A/N.Not all pairs are written as romantic. Check relationship tag to know.
Relationships: Alpha-17 & CT-7567 | Rex, CT-7567 | Rex/Anakin Skywalker, Jango Fett & Original Clone Character(s), Luke Skywalker/Tarre Vizsla
Series: Mistletoe Game [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2066025
Comments: 17
Kudos: 51





	1. Jango Fett & Fern (Original Clone Character)

**Author's Note:**

> To participate in Mistletoe game: [Click here](https://bittodeath.tumblr.com/ask)  
> Please precise fandom.

Fern squirms. He knows the tradition is to kiss people under the mistletoe, but the only one he's comfortable kissing is Bee. So he has spent the whole evening carefully avoiding the bundles of leaves unless Bee is with him, as he doesn't want to miss an opportunity to kiss his _riduur_.

Until Fives slams into him, sending him backward and straight into someone else. That someone catches him.

"Careful, _ad'ika_ ", they chuckle, and Fern freezes and slowly turns, blanching.

Of course, it had to be Jango Fett. And of course, they had to stumble under some mistletoe. He can see some _vode_ already elbowing each other, looking at them.

"Don't worry about it", Jango says gently.  
"But it's bad luck", Fern whispers.  
"And no one ever said it had to be on the mouth", Jango retorts wryly. "Here, stay still", he adds, cupping his face between his hands and tilting it down.

Dry, warm lips press to his brow and Fern dies a little inside, especially when he can feel Jango’s smile against his skin. He catches his hand as he goes to move back with trembling fingers, and lays his own lips against his – for once – bared palm.

“ _Vor’e_ ”, he breathes, and he doesn’t say it just for the kiss.

His fingers still tingle, to this day, with the weight of the Westars, when Jango let him borrow one to execute Priest. If there is one thing Jango understands well, it’s vengeance. Jango nods, and walks away. Just like that.

Well, it’s always nice to have the Prime’s blessing.


	2. Luke Skywalker / Tarre Vizsla

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There is something calling for Luke. It just takes him a long time to answer it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had to beat back plot with a stick on that one lol
> 
> _su'cuy gar, jet'ika_ : hello, little Jedi.

Luke is trying to meditate. Trying being a key-word here, Dagobah might be strong in the Force, but it does its very best to distract him. Currently, it does so by way of someone calling out to him. Someone… foreign. A strange Force-presence, that calls out to him.

It takes time, throughout his training, but the presence gradually becomes more defined – and dangerous. It wishes him no evil, and it clearly strong in the Force, but it has never been harmless.

_They have lost my sabre_ , the presence whispers, and it seems important, but- not yet. Not yet.

He nearly forgets all about it after the events of Bespin, and Master Yoda’s death. As he sits there, alone, he feels it reach out again.

_There is much you don’t know, and much that was destroyed. You should find me._

Find you, he wants to ask. And where? The planet is steeped into the Force, and the presence nearly one with it. He has Sith to defeat, and a father to save. He doesn’t have time for this yet.

It was simply not time yet. After everything is over, he returns to Dagobah, the Force urging him there, the presence calling for him. It takes time and effort, but he finds a large… metal chest? It’s enormous and heavy, and nearly screeching at him in the Force. Inside it, there is a man in cryo-freeze. Luke doesn’t recognize the technology, nor the script etched into its surface. The armour the man is wearing, however, is disturbingly familiar.

_Finally. You sure took your time._

Luke wakes him up, and slowly, the armoured man sits up. His presence sings with how _right_ it is, and Luke knows that whoever they are, they’re going to be important in his life – just like he knew Leia would be.

_“Su’cuy gar, jeti’ika”_ , the man says.

In the Force, all his attention is on him. Luke doesn’t understand what he said, but he perceives the meaning either way.

“You’ve been calling me for a long time.”  
“I’ve been calling for centuries”, the man replies. “You’re the first one to finally find me, now that both my people are gone, utterly destroyed by the Empire you just defeated.”  
“It wasn’t time.”  
“Maybe.” The man chuckles. “Did you do it on purpose?”  
“What?”  
“The mistletoe above us. Do you know what it means, in Mandalorian tradition?”  
“No?”  
“When two stand under mistletoe, they share a kiss”, the man says. “Or suffer Manda’s ire. What you call the Force.”

Luke doesn’t quite know what to do with that.

“I will not remove my helmet before one who isn’t part of my clan”, the man adds, “but I will uphold tradition, of course.”

Gauntleted hands gently cradle his face, and the cold, metal helmet lightly touches his forehead, settling there. Forehead to forehead. Breathing together, and Luke feels their presences twine in the Force, curious and wondering and _recognizing_ each other.

“My name is Tarre Vizsla”, the man finally says, still pressed up against him. “And now that a new age has come, we must see it through and make sure Mandalorians and Jedi thrive within it. Will you help me?”  
“It’s about your sabre, isn’t it?”

He has a distinct feeling Tarre is smiling under his helmet.

“Yes, it is about my sabre. I need to retrieve it.”

Luke has a feeling this won’t be as simple as Tarre makes it seem. After all, the simplest missions were always the ones that derailed the most.

“Well. Let’s go, then.”


	3. Rex & Alpha-17

Alpha-17 watches the party going on, feeling a bit out of place. Weddings aren’t exactly his jam – he doesn’t have the heart of a romantic, and he feels like a bantha in a porcelain store. If it were only that! But garlands of mistletoe have been hung everywhere, and tradition wants that you kiss whoever you meet under it, or attract doom on yourself and the newly wedded couple. And Alpha is… not the kissy type. Especially when he doesn’t know half the guests and towers over them. So, he’d rather stand guard near the deliciously creamy hors-d’oeuvres and pray he gets forgotten.

“If you keep on scowling like this, you’ll get stuck like that”, someone says, and he resists the urge to sigh. “Isn’t that what you always told Cody?”

Alpha-17 looks down at one of his numerously annoying baby brothers, scowling even more. Rex, of course, is smirking, very pleased with himself.

“Don’t you have anywhere better to be?”  
“I came to get some hors-d’oeuvres before you eat them all. Don’t think I didn’t see you”, Rex teases, shooing him out of the way.

Alpha-17 steps aside, not because he wants to, but because it’ll make Rex leave faster. He wants to go back to looming over the delicious bites that nearly all the guests haven’t dared to approach because of his sheer presence. Rex stuffs two in his mouth, puts another five on a little plate, and thrusts out one at him, which he tentatively takes.

“You know, the hors-d’oeuvres aren’t the only thing worth tasting here”, Rex points out. “You could try the mini-soufflés. They’re to die for.”

Alpha-17 digs in his heels. He’s not moving and risking a kiss. His lips might shrivel and fall off if he has to. Even though the soufflés _do_ look absolutely- no, no, don’t get distracted.

“Are you sure you don’t want one?” Rex asks again, taking one and biting into it, moaning rapturously at the taste.

Alpha-17 takes a step forward.

“Kiss under the mistletoe!” someone jeers, and he jerks back – bastard Cody and-

Oh. Oh no. It’s him under the mistletoe. Him and Rex. His asshole _vod’ika planned_ for this.

“C’mon you know the tradition! A kiss!”

Rex is grinning and Alpha-17 can _smell_ the upcoming prank. Still, he sighs and leans down, pressing a gentle kiss on Rex’s forehead. He smirks when Rex squirms – he visibly didn’t expect him to comply. He takes the opportunity to lean down.

“If you slobber on my face I’ll make you regret it”, he growls.

Rex turns his head, and plants a dry-lips kiss on his cheek. Alpha-17 starts to pull away, but Rex reels him in again – and blows a raspberry before scuttling away, laughing.

“Wha- You little shit!”

If he swipes a mini-soufflé before running after his brother to give him a lesson, no one is the wiser.


	4. Rex/Anakin

Ardenna-8 is a planet lush with life, and its people live in harmony with the omnipresent nature. It is a beautiful place to get a mission on, now that the war is over. Indeed, for all that the galaxy-wide war is over, the same cannot be said for all planets who find themselves having skirmishes of all kinds. Just like before. Except now, when the Jedi move, there is usually a contingent of clone soldiers following them.

Ardenna-8 is technically no longer at war, but a terrorist faction demanding the royals be deposited has risen, and threatens the royal family – and more importantly, the king’s unique child, a daughter soon to be wedded for the betterment of their people. Her loss would be an utter disaster, when the monarch is apparently chosen by the Force itself.

Ardenna-8 is also full of traditions regarding nature, and following its will. Anakin tried, but didn’t retain half of them. He still wonders why it isn’t Obi-Wan and a squad of the 212th here, instead of him with the 501st. Everyone knows they’re particularly good at making things blow up. But it _is_ him, here, trying not to stare at Rex too much when his captain drinks from one of the water fountains.

He hoped his crush would fade in time, but it only got worse. Things will become complicated if he doesn’t get a grip soon. He shakes his head to clear it, and turns his attention back to the princess standing slightly behind him, her species frail and delicate. He has to be careful not to topple her over when he moves around. Rex moves forward, looking out to see if the way is open for them, and Anakin feels the princess’s interest on his captain.

He looks at her, and then at Rex, at the silhouette he cuts on the clear blue sky and light green gardens. He does look impressive like this, and he’s not even trying. There’s a surety, a certainty to his stance that makes Anakin’s stomach tingle with warmth. He moves slightly to put himself under the shade of a tree, and Anakin moves up to join him, sensing that something caught his attention. He drops a hand over Rex’s pauldron, and his captain points out what intrigued him. Anakin extends his senses to see if there is a threat.

“Only a bunch of tookas”, he finally says, and smiles at Rex.

He feels that the princess has come up to them later than he should have: she’s already standing a few meters away from them, her hands – or whatever she has in place of them – clasped together.

“Is something the matter, Your Highness?” he asks.  
“You are standing under mistletoe”, she says, gentle and graceful.

Anakin resists the urge to sigh.

“Let me guess, there’s a tradition for that?” he says, trying to curb the sarcasm.

She nods, extremely serious.

“A very important one. Mistletoe is said to be a manifestation of the Force’s will. Two souls finding themselves under it are tied together. You must kiss under mistletoe, or see the Force turn away from you.”

Anakin finds himself dumbfounded. Now that he thinks about it, he did read about it when he was getting ready for this mission, but it seemed too fanciful it slipped his mind. And now, he’s under Mistletoe… with Rex.

“Can’t take the risk, sir”, Rex replies from behind his helmet, safely ensconced in it while Anakin is exposed, growing redder by the second.

This might be his opportunity. He might never get another like this again. Hell, it might even be the will of the Force, who knows? Rex takes his helmet off, holding it awkwardly, his face flushed, gaze trying to avert, and yet he’s licking his lips. Anakin gently cups his face between his hands, dragging his thumb over his bottom lip. The sharp intake of breath it draws from Rex tells him he isn’t the only one this affected.

He closes the distance slowly, lets their lips brush, and finds himself firmly clutched to Rex by the waist, their breaths mingling together. His vaguely hears his men jeer and whistle, but Rex’s blond hair is so soft under his flesh hand, his skin warm, and he can’t _believe_ he spent all this time without it. The kiss depends and he half stumbles, fingers curling over Rex, possessive.

They part slowly, breathing hard and flushed, and Rex almost averts his eyes – but instead, he chuckles and Anakin finds himself chuckling right after him.

“It took you long enough, General.”  
“Anakin”, Anakin breathes.  
“Anakin”, Rex corrects, the name rolling on his tongue, soft and gentle, sweet like honey.  
“For once that I’m patient, I’m going to get berated for it”, Anakin laughs, and Rex gives him another peck.

This mission to Ardenna-8 is looking better by the minute.


End file.
